From that day on, Star had been working off a debt so massive it was better not to think about it. Fifteen million. With a daily wage of one thousand… that was what forty years?
Would Star die of old age first?
Every job Rock ordered had to be done anything from sweeping crumbs to moving mountains like a personal servant chained to the household. There was a tiny room to sleep in, which was still a blessing, considering rent was now impossible.
All previous jobs had to be dropped; with a hundred baht left in the world, nothing could be paid back. Life was just… free falling, and Rock, that oversized creditor, was a spoiled, stubborn brat who listened to no one not even his own parents. A walking bundle of bad habits.
Rock only liked people who obeyed without question no arguing, no raising voices, no "interrupting." He ruled like a king, snarled when displeased, barked orders loud enough to numb ears. Luckily he didn't slap or kick, but that heavy-knuckled knock to the head came often enough. A rich man who cared about no one except for cars. That, apparently, was the only thing that soothed him.
No wonder his parents ran a luxury car business. Must be nice… being rich. Every day Star wandered through a maze of mess left behind in Rock's wake laundry, mopping, ironing, cooking, scrubbing toilets. That was the easy stuff. The real torture was trailing behind to clean Rock's office, bedroom, dressing room, kitchen, lounge just cycling nonstop from dawn till night with no time to sit and sulk when Rock barked orders.
The luxury cars Toy once dreamed of riding in Star had sat in nearly every model within twenty-one days.
But as… the help.
Actual help. Vacuuming, washing, polishing them like some cruel joke. Even though an entire department existed to do that, Rock insisted on using Star. One scratch and the debt would probably multiply for life.
Cleaning a condo alone was exhausting enough, but now dealing with cars that caused trauma? That was a curse. Star wanted to scream, "I'm panicking!" but didn't dare.
Star hated those flashy machines. Hated and feared them. If there was a next life, let it be in a world of horses and buffalo carts—never supercars again.
But even the wicked have weaknesses.
Rock was painfully nearsighted the kind who sometimes had to feel for walls. Anything beyond arm's reach was a blur. Those smoky gray eyes couldn't see a damn thing. Which explained why Rock often leaned in too close close enough to feel like an incoming haunting. Scarier than ghosts was a half-blind creditor.
And because Rock hated anyone touching his eyes, except when ordering Star to put in eye drops, guiding him by hand became part of the job. Dangerous, considering Rock still insisted on driving.
No sense of self-preservation.
"Star!!" That booming voice echoed across the room.
"Yes!" Star hurried toward the sound, stopping in front of the bathroom door.
"Get in here!"
"What's wrong, Rock?" Star cracked the door open and there he was, lounging in the bathtub, eyes shut tight.
"Shampoo got in my eyes. I rinsed with water, but it's fogging up I can't see."
"I'll wash your eyes for you~"
Shhhhhhh—
Star sat on the edge of the tub, turned on the shower head, softened the pressure, and let the water run gently down Rock's face. With small, careful fingers, Star wiped over each eyelid, massaging lightly to ease the sting.
"Feeling better? Try opening them slowly."
"…Mm."
Even after being yelled at countless times, Star still tended to him gently soft touches, steady care, and a quiet voice asking if anything hurt, if he wanted anything else. Twenty-one days of this. They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit. If you stop, life feels incomplete.
"Rock, hold onto my shoulder. I'll help you up and then we'll dry off and put in your drops, okay?"
"Mm… which part is your shoulder? You're so damn small. Didn't they give out any food where you grew up? I still can't believe you managed to pull me out of that car." Rock's big hand skimmed over Star's shoulders two, three times, annoyed. Then that strong arm wrapped around Star's waist, hauling him up and out as though losing patience.
"Rock, careful table leg! Don't walk so.."
THUD!!
"AHHH! F**k!! That hurts!!"
Star: Serves you right. I told you and you wouldn't listen good that something finally shut you up.
"Rock, are you okay? Can you walk?"
He might've been a little pleased with the outcome, but he couldn't just leave an injured man there. When he noticed the blood seeping from Rock's foot, he asked with genuine concern.
"It hurts like hell!!"
The tall man yelled his lungs out, venting the sting in his foot. Even so, the smaller boy hurried over, looping an arm around his waist to support him as the giant hobbled toward the bed.
"Slowly… easy… watch the doorframe okay, gently lower yourself onto the bed. I'll put the eye drops in."
Thud.
The moment his legs touched the mattress, the big guy collapsed flat on his back. His sharp, handsome face twisted in pain, eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the little debtor to start first aid. Star fetched the first-aid kit and began cleaning the blood off his foot. Those small hands of his… could do more than he ever expected. He was sincere, gentle nothing like the people his parents had sent to look after him before.The restricted spaces that no one else was allowed to enter had slowly become places the little debtor could come and go freely.
He'd gotten used to it…
Used to his presence.
Used to his touch.